


The Mountains Have People

by spooky_blue



Category: Warcraft (2016), World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apprentice Khadgar, Fluff, Implied Attraction, Khadgar is a cat, LionTrust, M/M, Snuggling, Violence against gryphons, petting, slow relationship development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:08:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9178867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spooky_blue/pseuds/spooky_blue
Summary: Anduin Lothar's favorite gryphon has gone missing, and he takes a break from his duties to go find her.  Along the way, he falls into some trouble in the backwoods of the Alterac Mountains.Inspired on many level's by Tybir's fantastic work "The Missing Cow" -- go read it if you haven't already :) http://archiveofourown.org/works/8938408





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tybir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tybir/gifts).



Clinging like a burr to the crumbling cliff side, Anduin Lothar began to suspect that this was not the smartest approach.  Another bead of sweat snaked down between his shoulder blades, and he resisted the urge to reach back and scratch.  A false move at this height would be deadly.   Craning his head backward, Anduin could make out the rough cluster of branches above that was his target – a large gryphon’s eyrie.  If the nest was abandoned, then his climb would have been wasted.  If it were occupied, then he’d have a different problem on his hands.

 _Damn Wormwing._  

Wormwing was a big, tawny beast with an attitude – she was only one generation removed from wild, and he loved the proud, fiery animal.  She’d disappeared ten days ago, and he’d tracked her to this remote location in the Alterac mountain range – a common breeding place for gryphons in the past, although the population wasn’t what it once was years ago.

When his favorite of the king’s gryphons had gone missing, suspected of seeking out a nesting place to lay her hatchlings, Anduin had volunteered to track her down.  Certainly there were better things for the commander of the Azeroth armies to be doing.  The realm was at peace, though, and Anduin was bored.  He deserved some time away from his duties.  Besides, he was the only one who could really ride her.

Wedging the toe of his boot into another crevice, Anduin continued inching upward, one painstaking handhold at a time.  His warrior’s build served him well on the ground, but scaling a cliff, the bulk of his muscular frame was a disadvantage.  A rock skittered under his feet, and he froze, listening to its descent.  The rock seemed to fall for an eternity.  When he could no longer hear the clattering, Anduin slowly crawled another foot, then another, gritting his teeth against the burn in his forearms and calves. 

At the edge of the nest he paused, listening for any sound from the great eyrie above.  Hearing nothing, he reached for a branch.  The nest was enormous, carefully structured from boughs of white pine and strong enough to bear a family of gryphons.  The interior was padded with cornstalks and cattail reeds.  Situated several hundred feet up the sheer cliff, the nest would provide a comfortable haven for a gryphon to raise her cubs.

Pulling himself up over the edge awkwardly, Anduin’s heart sank as he realized the nest was abandoned.  There was no sign of gryphon activity – no feathers, pellets, or carcasses filled the nest.  No flies, no bones.  Down in the center of the nest cavity, where the eggs would be laid, there were fragments of shells long hatched.  No sign of Wormwing, or any other gryphon. 

Anduin sighed. This was the third nest he’d breached in as many days.  One had been abandoned, like this one.  The other had been poached.  Gryphon breeding was strictly controlled; interfering with breeding gryphons in the wild was very illegal, and very dangerous.  Still, there was a healthy black market and poaching was continually a problem in the more remote areas of the realm where it was harder to track.

Anduin rested his forearms on the edge of the eyrie and admired the view.  The trip wasn’t completely wasted, he thought, looking at the mid-morning sun blazing across the mountains of Alterac.  Anduin had never been quite this far into the remote and rugged mountain range.  He’d been on the trail for nine days now.  It had been three days since he’d seen signs of civilization.  This was backcountry – wild, untamed, and breathtakingly beautiful. 

Using the gryphon whistle, he gave several long calls.  Although he couldn’t hear the pitch of the whistle, he knew the sound would carry across the valley.  He wasn’t holding out much hope, since Wormwing obstinately ignored the whistle even when at home when she felt like it. 

With a sigh, Anduin began the painstaking reverse climb, cursing the gryphon every step of the way.  As he feet touched the solid, flat ground once again, he heard the sharp click of a crossbow winding.

“Stop right there, poacher, and keep your hands nice and high.”  The voice was like rusty iron, and Anduin swallowed, carefully complying with the directive. 

“There’s a mistake here, friend,” he called back over his shoulder.  “I’m no poacher.  I’m here on the king’s business-”  Something slammed against the back of his head, and he crashed to the ground.


	2. Poachers Go In Holes

“Put him in the hole, Ned, that’s what’s good for poachers,” said Gerald, roughly pushing Anduin’s back as they moved into the holding pen.  Anduin bit his tongue.  There was no point in arguing with the rural jailors.  They meant well, he reminded himself. They were trying to uphold the law.  They didn’t know who he was.  He was definitely not a gryphon poacher, but there was no convincing them of that.  Especially when they’d found him crawling around in a gryphon’s nest.

“Naw,” said Ned, “Hole’s full.”

“Still?” asked Gerald.  “When you gonna deal with that thing?”

“Ain’t gonna,” grunted Ned.  “Bailiff from Southridge gonna.  Sent for him two day ago.”

“Chain’s good enough then,” replied Gerald, drawing a link from the wall and fastening it to the manacles that linked Anduin’s feet together.  Anduin stifled another sigh.  _Chains?  Really?_   Locked inside the jail, there was nowhere for him to go.  It seemed unnecessary.

The two men surveyed their work for a moment, then Ned spat on the ground. “Gon’ stay here until the bailiff comes, poacher.  Then he’ll hear your story.  If you be lying, it’s off to the capital with you.”

Anduin nodded.  “Thank you, Ned.  I know you’re just doing your job.”  Either way, the capital was where he wanted to be.  Although, it would be quite a story if the commander of the army were led into Stormwind chained in a paddy wagon.

Ned stared at him through small, beady eyes, then spat again as he closed the door, leaving Anduin in semi-darkness.

The room was large and square.  Everything in these mountains was built with stone – the jail looked as though it had been here for a hundred years, and Anduin thought it probably had been.  He had a large pile of hay and a blanket, a bucket of water and another for necessities.  On each of the other three walls were stations for other prisoners – the jail could hold six all told, but Anduin was the only occupant.  In the center of the room was a large grating that could be lifted by two iron rings – the “hole” that Gerald had mentioned, Anduin surmised.  Light slanted in through several windows that were more vertical slits in the stone than anything else – far too small for a grown man to wriggle out of.

With nothing better to do, Anduin decided he might as well have a nap.  Lying down in the hay, he made himself as comfortable as possible with the scratchy blanket and wondered how he’d explain this to King Llane.  If only his horse hadn’t been spooked away, leaving him weaponless and without any identification.  If only he hadn’t tried for that one last gryphon nest, even though he’d been pretty certain it was abandoned.  If only.  His useless thoughts were interrupted by a soft noise from the center of the room.  The hole.  Ned had said it was full.  Was someone in there?

“Hello?” Anduin called softly.  “Anybody there?”

There was another soft clink, and he realized that something was moving down below the grating.  Something in chains.  He crawled towards the edge and looked cautiously into the darkness, holding his breath against the offensive odor that wafted up. 

“Hey,” he said again, tapping against the grating.  “My name is Anduin Loth-”

He was interrupted by a low warning growl, and froze.  _Oh.  Animal, then._   Anduin backed away slowly, wondering what kind of beast the mountain people were keeping in the hole.  And why they were keeping it in chains.  Anduin felt a measure of sympathy for the creature.  If the animal was dangerous, better to put it out of its misery rather than keeping it captive, surely.  _Not my problem,_ he reminded himself. 

Settling back in the straw, Anduin braced himself for a long, boring wait.  He probably could have escaped, and was half-minded to try, but knew that he’d cause problems for poor, ancient Ned if he fled.  Anyway, they’d taken his boots, and be damned if he was going to leave without them.  Anduin decided to wait patiently for the bailiff to arrive.  There were worse things than napping in straw for a few days.


	3. Did You Know It Talks?

When the sun went down, Ned returned to the jail with a bucket of food.  He doled out a plate of beans, bread, and apples, then emptied Anduin’s necessity bucket somewhere outside.  Coming back inside, he carried a large cudgel that raised Anduin’s eyebrows. 

 _What now?_ He wondered.  ‘ _The beatings will commence until your story improves’?_

“What’s that for?” he asked, and was not surprised when the old man ignored him.  Mountain folk tended to keep their thoughts to themselves.

Ned moved to the grating in the floor and jerked it open with a screech of protesting metal.  Muttering to himself, he clambered into the hole with an awkward balance of cudgel, lantern, and food bucket.

“Get back,” Ned growled, apparently to the hole’s occupant.  “I brung you dinner.  Jest get back now afore I crack you one.”  The low, warning growl came again, ending in an angry hiss.  Anduin’s interest was now piqued, and he moved closer to look into the hole.

Ned was pushing the bucket of food with his cudgel, inching it towards the small, dark shape in the corner.  The flickering lamplight made it difficult to see, but Anduin thought he saw a lot of fur and a long, black tail.  A young sabercat, maybe?  That would be unusual so far north.  No wonder the mountain people were disturbed.   Ned gathered his courage and gave the bucket another push, and a black paw shot out towards the bucket with claws flexed and flashing in the light.  Ned cursed and swung his cudgel, cracking the beast firmly and upturning the bucket in the process.   The creature yelped at the blow and retreated to its corner, chain clinking as it slunk low to the ground. 

Anduin felt his jaw drop.  That was no sabercat.  But what the hell was it?

“Now look what you done, daft demon,” said Ned, his voice gone high with anger and fear.  “Spilled yer dinner.  Damn ungrateful…” Ned’s muttering continued, but Anduin couldn’t hear what he said.  The old man climbed jerkily up the steps out of the hole.

“What is that?” Anduin asked softly, staring into Ned’s small, dark eyes.

“Demon spawn,” spit Ned.  “Summat unnatural.  Bailiff’s comin’ to deal with it.  And deal with you, too,” he added meanly, lest Anduin forget his place in the hierarchy. 

Anduin doubted that the creature was demon spawn, but didn’t argue with the old man.  It may have been a trick of the lamplight, but the creature had almost looked human.  Definitely catlike, but somehow, human, too.  He wanted a closer look.

“Gonna clean out that bucket?” he asked, nodding towards the hole and casually adopting the mountain man’s lilting cadence. 

Ned stared at him, eyes narrow.  “Tain’t full yet.”

“Stinks something awful,” said Anduin.

“Like cat piss,” Ned agreed with a nod, then a crafty look appeared on his face.  “You go down there and clean it,” he said, poking at Anduin with his cudgel.  

“Me?” Anduin tried to look surprised.  When Ned poked him again, he raised both hands defensively.  “Alright, alright.”

“No tricks now, or I’ll crack you, boy,” Ned warned, unfastening the chain that bound Anduin to the wall.  Anduin tried not to choke out loud with laughter, imagining how quickly he could overpower the ancient jailor if he tried.  Instead, he nodded solemnly and took a deep breath of fresh air before heading down the grating. 

Ned kept the lantern above, so he stopped for a moment at the base of the stairs to let his eyes adjust.  There, in the corner of the room, lay the creature.  Curled onto its side, he saw again the dark mass of fur, the long, black tail, the catlike ears…and the very human forearms.  Anduin cleared his throat softly to catch the creature’s attention.  The ears flickered toward him immediately, and the head turned slowly.

Anduin stifled a curse, seeing the creature well for the first time.  Something between beast and man, it defied description.  _Were-cat_ , he thought improbably.  _Cat-man?_   Parts of the creature were human, and parts were beast, mixed together in an unnatural combination that nearly had him agreeing with Ned about the possibility of demonic influence.  He moved a step closer, one hand held out calmingly.

A soft hiss came from the face, uncannily human but showing sharp, tiny fangs that were definitely cat. 

“Hey,” said Anduin quietly.  “Hey now.  Just getting the bucket, hm?”  He’d dealt with many animals in his life, both tame and not.  This creature was frightened, but powerless to hurt him if he were careful, chained as it was.  A thick metal band circled its neck, linking it securely to the wall.  While Lothar’s chain gave him freedom to pace nearly the width of the entire jail, the cat could go no more than a few feet in any direction.  “What _are_ you?” he asked softly, as he reached for the filthy, stinking bucket.  He hadn’t been expecting a reply, so jumped from surprise when the beast responded.

“Want food,” it whispered.  Anduin stared, captivated by very brown, very human eyes.  “Hungry.”  One forearm extended, humanlike but for the large, clawed paw on the end.  It reached for the food, spilled from Ned’s bucket onto the ground and just beyond reach.  “Want.”

Anduin glanced upstairs at Ned.  “Did you know it can talk?” he asked.

Ned spat in response.  “Don’t talk.  Demons only spin lies.”

“It’s hungry,” Anduin called.  “Got any more food?”

“Naw,” said Ned unhelpfully. 

Anduin sighed, then squatted and scraped up the spilled food as best he could with his bare hands – the same beans, bread, and apple that he’d eaten for dinner.  Hardly proper food for a cat, but all it was likely to get tonight.  He eyed the cat-creature.  “If I come over there, are you going to be nice?”

The cat licked its lips, then nodded.  _Nodded._ At such a human gesture, Anduin made up his mind, and moved closer – cautiously.  He placed the food on the floor, and watched as the beast leaned down, face-first and gobbled up the food from the floor, barely chewing.  “More?” the cat asked, looking at him hopefully.  Anduin wondered how many meals had been spilled in the same fashion, and felt his heart tug for the strange creature.  It looked skinny and bedraggled.  Something about the build told him the creature was an adolescent, not fully grown.

“There isn’t any more,” Anduin replied regretfully.  “Ned?” he called up the grating again, eyes never leaving the creature.  “Straw needs changing.  It’s filthy.  And he doesn’t have a blanket.”

Ned cursed soundly, something about him being the jailor, not the maid.  Anduin grabbed the two buckets and prepared to head back up the stairs, but stopped when a black paw rested firmly on his bare foot.  _Damn._ He swallowed slowly, prepared to douse the creature in its own refuse out of defense if necessary.  “Stay,” said the cat.  “Please stay.  Help me.  Want out.” It tugged at the short chain around its neck pitifully.

“I’ll be back,” Anduin promised.  “With clean straw for you.  Alright?”

He slowly moved his foot away from the black paw, then scrambled up the stairs with the reeking bucket.   Ned showed him where it could be safely dumped and cleaned.  Old Ned seemed to like having someone to boss around, and was all too eager to bring him to the barn to load a cart full of clean straw. 

“Ned,” Anduin began conversationally as he worked, heaving the straw with a pitchfork.  “Where did that beast come from?”  Ned did not seem to realize that he’d just given the prisoner a weapon.  Anduin had no intention of using the pitchfork against the old man, but it amused him how oblivious the makeshift jailor was.

“Merril’s boys caught it,” Ned grunted.  “Four day ago in a bear trap.  Beast been killing our livestock. Sucking the blood, most likely.”

“Why are you keeping it in the hole?” Anduin spotted a long, rusty nail driven into one of the barn’s beams.  _Aha._  He leaned against the beam casually, chewing on a piece of straw as he talked.  One hand worked on the nail, tugging and twisting just out of Ned’s line of vision

Ned looked uncomfortable.  “Shoulda killed it, but nobody ken do it.  Looks kinda human-like, donit?  Druther have the bailiff sort it out.  Taint our responsibility to deal with demon spawn.  Shoulda burnt it with fire, that’s what I said.”

Anduin shivered to think of the intelligent, sentient creature below being burned alive.  That seemed to be an excessive measure, so he was glad the mountain people had decided to turn the creature over to the authorities.  “Has he said anything?  Do you know where it came from?” Anduin chatted on innocently, freeing the nail from the beam at last and slipping it into his pocket.

“Lies, I told you,” snorted Ned.  “Says it’s a mage.  Everybody knows mages kent shapeshift.  Demon.  Blood-drinking underspawn.”

Anduin considered this thoughtfully as he pushed the barrow of straw back to the jail.  Perhaps shapeshifting were unusual, but he knew of at least one mage that could do so.  As the Guardian of Azeroth, Medivh was the most powerful mage in the realm, so of course he could do things that most mages couldn’t.  Still, if one mage could do it, so could another. 

Back in the jail, Anduin regarded Ned gravely.  “Listen,” he said.  “Bailiff will be here soon, won’t he?”

Ned acknowledged this with a grunt. 

“Now, as I’ve told you, I’m _not_ a poacher.  I’m here in Alterac on the King’s business, tracking one of his personal gryphons.”  Ned spluttered, and might have tried to respond, but Anduin kept going.  “When the bailiff gets here, he’ll get this all straightened out.  You’ll see.  I want you to think about this.”  He paused, watching Ned’s gears grinding around in his brain.  “If I’m telling you the truth, and you’ve treated me poorly, things might not go so well for you.  I know you’re just doing your duty, but the king’s men might not see it that way.”

Ned glared. “So?”

“I’ll stay in your jail.  On my honor.  But no chains.” Anduin watched Ned closely.  The old man was like an ancient, wizened apple, his face drawn and sour. 

Anduin was beginning to think that Ned would never respond, when he reached out with his cudgel and poked Anduin’s shin.  “Finish the straw,” he grunted.  “Lemme think.”

Anduin nodded and carried the straw below.

\--

The cat creature had been cleaning its paws with its tongue when he approached, but stopped guiltily.  Almost as if it were embarrassed by what it were doing.  Funny how such obvious human emotions could flicker across the catlike face. 

“See?  I’m back,” Anduin told him softly.  “Nice, clean straw for you.  Move over there,” he pointed, “and I’ll change your bedding.”

Moving slowly, painfully, the cat crept to the side and let him spear at the straw with his pitchfork.  Anduin saw that it was favoring its hind leg – probably the one caught in the bear trap. 

“Leg hurt?” he asked. 

The human-sized cat nodded.  “Paw. Um, foot.  Broken.”

Anduin leaned on his pitchfork and regarded the cat.  “So, you’re a mage?”  He pitched his voice low, to make it difficult for Ned to eavesdrop from above.

Another wary nod.

“Since when could mages shapeshift?” Anduin questioned. 

The cat sighed, sounding distinctly embarrassed.  “Not can’t.  Shouldn’t.” It waved a paw.  “Not recommended.  Obviously.”

“Why did you, then?”

“Hungry,” said the cat by way of explanation.

Anduin found this hard to believe.  “Really.  You were hungry, so you morphed into a cat?”

The cat gave him a long, cool look, then shifted its brown eyes away.  The tip of the long, black tail flickered with what Anduin interpreted as annoyance. 

“That’s not a very good story,” he said, wrapping the soiled straw into a canvass and beginning to lay out the fresh.  “No wonder they don’t believe you.  Did you attack the mountain people’s livestock?” he pushed.  “And growl at Ned?”

Now the cat looked down, embarrassed. “Hungry.  Sheep good, delicious, need food.”  He seemed to be struggling with his speech, either finding the right words or putting them in the right order.  “Ned kicks me.  I claw him.”

If the cat were clawing Ned, no wonder he thumped it with his cudgel.  “What are you doing here in Alterac, terrorizing these good people?” Anduin was realizing that this cat-person was very young indeed.  He didn’t sense any threat coming from the creature at all, just misery and embarrassment.  He spoke to the cat the way he spoke to his son – kindly, but with authority. 

The cat licked its lips again, nervous.  “Hiding.  Easier to hide as cat.”  It crawled close to the straw, and Anduin shoed it back as he spread the clean blanket that Ned and provided. 

“There.  Now try it.  Better, hm?”  Anduin sat on the ground easily beside the cat.  The creature settled warily next to him, with the stiff, jerky movements of pain.  “Let me see your paw, alright?  Just going to look at it.”  Anduin reached slowly, so slowly, and placed his hand on the hind leg.  It was tricky to see in the semi-dark, but he could feel tender swelling and wetness.  The paw was hot to the touch, and probably getting infected.  At his probing, the cat hissed softly, but made no other move.  “Sorry,” he said.  “Nasty little trap they had, huh?  Who are you hiding from?”

After a long pause, the cat responded.  “Kirin Tor.  Mages.  Want to find me.”

“Why?” Anduin asked gently.  “Are you a criminal?”

The cat shook its head emphatically.  “Apprentice.  Bad apprentice.  Curious.  Cat magic, other magic.  Bad.  Trouble.  Khadgar.”

“Catgar?” Lothar didn’t understand.

“Khadgar,” repeated the cat.  “My name is Khadgar.”  He sounded surprised, as if he hadn’t thought about that in a long time.  “Help me?” he asked.  “We get out?”

Anduin scratched at his beard.  “Why don’t you just shapeshift back to your human form?”

“Can’t,” said Khadgar, surprised by the question, as if it were obvious.  “Paw broken.  Tail broken.  Shouldn’t shift.  Dangerous.”

“Could it get worse?” Anduin smiled, gesturing at the half-cat, half-boy.  “Looks like something already went wrong.”

“Already tried, in the trap,” Khadgar admitted.  “Then this happened. Was cat long time.  Almost forgot.” He seemed sad.  “Now stuck between.  Stupid.”

“Khadgar,” said Anduin.  “I can’t let you go.  I’m a prisoner here, too.  I’ll help if I can, though. The bailiff should be here in a few days, and will sort this out. ” Anduin had no idea what the going punishment would be for stealing and killing livestock, but thought that once his own status was restored, he could use his influence to help the boy.  He stood, getting ready to haul the load of dirty straw back upstairs.

“No,” said Khadgar, distressed.  “Anduin.  Stay.”

“You talkin’ to that demon?” Ned called down into the hole.  “Warned you not to.  Iffin it bites you and you get possessed, I’ll leave you down there.”

Anduin rolled his eyes.  “I’m not bitten, Ned.  Coming up with the straw.”  He heaved the loaded canvass onto one shoulder and climbed above. 

Ned swung the grating shut with a clang and glared at Anduin. 

“There,” said Anduin cheerfully, dropping the bundled straw outside and facing Ned with his hands on the hips.  “Got any other chores need doing?”

“Yes,” snapped Ned, as though it were his idea.  “Gotta split the fireword and haul up some more water.  Git to it.”  He prodded at Anduin again with his cudgel, and Anduin nodded amicably. 

“A’right,” he said, “I’ll do it. First the chains, though.”

Ned glared.

“On my honor,” Anduin said, with strength, “As my name is Anduin Lothar, I will do this thing.”  The name didn’t mean anything to Ned, but the fervor behind the promise seemed to satisfy him. 

“Awrighty then.”  Kneeling down, ancient knees cracking, Ned unfastened the manacles around Anduin’s ankles.  “Now git to work. C’mon.”


	4. Broken Bones

Several hours later, Anduin had finished all of Ned’s chores and more.  Anduin had worked hard to earn Ned’s trust, chopping wood cheerfully, hauling buckets of water, even scrubbing out the soot-filled chimney as best he could.  Ned lived alone, from what he could tell, tending to the lonely jail that normally had nothing but an occasional drunk sleeping off a hangover.  Having two prisoners at the same time was both the highlight of Ned’s existence and completely exhausting. He was more than happy to have Anduin’s forced labor, and was almost reluctant to lock him up at night.

Ned shifted from foot to foot.  “Ya did good today, boy.  Mebbe now ya kin see the honest life ain’t so bad.  No need to turn to poaching.”

Anduin groaned.  “Not a poacher, Ned.  We’ve been over that.”  He flopped wearily onto the bed of straw and yawned.  “Don’t suppose you’d leave me the lantern, would you?”

“Why?” Ned laughed meanly.  “Gonna do some reading?”

Obviously, there was nothing to read in the barren jail cell.  Anduin just wanted better light to look at Khadgar’s foot.

“Nevermind, Ned,” said Anduin, ignoring the rudeness.  “See you tomorrow.  Maybe we can start work on mending that fence,” he added helpfully. 

Ned surprised him then by placing the lantern on the ground and grunting “Mebbe so,” his only reply, then he barred the jail door securely from the outside.  

Minutes later, when Anduin was certain that Ned was settled in for the night, he lifted the grate and clambered back down into the hole where Khadgar rested fitfully.  Working at the chain with his rusty nail, he managed to spring open the simple lock that bound the creature so closely to the wall.  Khadgar climbed slowly to his hind legs, balancing awkwardly on the not-quite-cat, not-quite-human anatomy. 

“Come up stairs,” Anduin offered.  “I want to look at your paw in the light.  Clean it up, if you’ll let me.”

“Alright.” Khadgar raised his arms above his head, flexing his claws against the stone wall and stretching luxuriously.  His claws scraped jarringly against the stone, but he didn’t seem to notice Anduin’s wince.  “Chain too short,” he commented.  “Stiff.”

Khadgar paced around the small jail, which must have seemed palatial after living in the hole for four days.  He sniffed carefully at the door and windows, then settled comfortably on Anduin’s straw bed. 

Anduin moved the lamp close, and pushed back the dark fur, probing gently at the hot skin beneath.  “Well.  Not good.”

“Bad?” Khadgar asked.

“Infection,” Anduin told him.  “Where the trap caught your leg.  You must have struggled.”

Khadgar swallowed.  “Hurts.  Fix it?”

“I’m not a healer,” Anduin cautioned.  “But I’ve seen enough wounds.  I’m going to wash it with water and bind it with cloth.  Is that alright?”

“No,” said Khadgar, then he grinned showing all his very sharp teeth.  “Joking.  Please do it.”

Anduin sighed.  The creature seemed to becoming more humanlike the more he talked.  He wondered how long the boy had been in the cat form. 

“A long time,” Khadgar told him, when he asked.  “Many nights.  Don’t know.  Bad for mages, forget.  Get stuck.  Dangerous.”

“Are you sure you can’t change back?” Anduin pressed.  “When the bailiff comes, I’m riding out of here.”  He took a deep breath.  “You’re coming with me, and you can’t ride a horse like that.”

Khadgar blinked.  “Why?”

“I know a mage.  I think he can help you.”

“Don’t need help,” said Khadgar, stubbornly.

“Yes, you do,” Anduin replied.  He had finished washing the wounded leg with water, feeling with frustration that he was probably making things worse.  Now he had removed his undershirt, tearing it into long strips to bind up the paw and try to keep it clean.  “You’re on the run from one of the most powerful magical brotherhoods in the kingdom, living like a beast in the mountains killing sheep, and you don’t think you need help?”

Khadgar sighed.  “Cat or human?”

“What?” Anduin wrinkled his forehead, then realized what Khadgar was asking.  “Human, silly.  Cats don’t ride horses.”

“Will hurt again,” said Khadgar softly, nodding at Lothar, “But I will try.  Anduin.”  He moved to the far corner of the room and shut his eyes.  When they reopened a moment later, they flared with bright blue light of the arcane.  He was chanting softly, words that Lothar didn’t know and didn’t want to know.  Words of power.  Balancing on his hind legs, he weaved his paw-hands carefully as he chanted, the light flickering between blue and teal as he called on nature magic. 

There was a flash of light, and Anduin looked away.  When he looked back, Khadgar had fallen to the ground and was panting heavily.  A more human Khadgar, but not completely so.  He was keening softly, hissing pain through clenched teeth, but seemed alright.  Fully human fingers were clenching handfuls of straw as he braced on the floor.

“You forgot something,” Anduin said gravely.  “Your tail?”

Khadgar looked behind him with surprise, as his large, fluffy black tail flickered in equal surprise.  With a little huff of irritation, he knelt onto his knees and threw his hands in the air.  “Later.  Too much right now.”  He moved back near Anduin, settling down into the straw.  He seemed to realize belatedly that he was naked, and pulled some of the scratchy blanket around him.  “That wasn’t so bad,” he said, brown eyes searching Anduin’s.

Anduin could now see that the ‘creature’ was a young man, possibly in his late teens or a little older.  His hair and eyes were dark brown, and he had the slim build that was typical of magi – having no need for layers of muscle, they tended towards leanness instead.  The lamplight was not perfect, but Anduin could see the multitude of bruises that covered his pale skin.  Ned, or others, had been liberal with the cudgel.  Anduin imagined that Khadgar had not been easy to catch from the trap, so maddened by pain he must have been. 

“Is it always so painful?  The transformation?” Anduin asked.

“No,” Khadgar replied easily.  “It was broken bones.  Remaking, new shape.  Hurt.”

The bandages that Anduin had just wrapped were dislodged by the transformation, and he patiently re-wrapped them while Khadgar curled on his side on the straw.  “I’ll have to put you back in the hole,” Anduin said at last. 

Khadgar’s eyes cast downward, and he seemed to draw in on himself.  “Okay.”

“In the morning,” Anduin hastened to add.  “You can stay up here with me until Ned comes back.”  Khadgar was leaning close against him now, ostensibly for warmth but perhaps also for companionship.  He wriggled even closer, laying his head on Lothar’s lap.  “Thank you,” Khadgar whispered into his thigh.  “You can pet me, now,” he added.  “I don’t mind.” 

 _Pet him?  What does that mean?_ Anduin reached down hesitantly, and stroked the dark hair. 

“That’s nice,” said Khadgar, “Keep petting.  Good.”  His voice trailed away, and Anduin realized that he was drifting away into sleep.  Anduin continued to run his fingers through the hair, willing himself to not think about when the last time the young man had bathed.  He didn’t seem nearly as dirty as he ought to be, but then, cats were very clean, Anduin remembered.  A strange, choking sound came from the sleeping form, and he realized belatedly that Khadgar was purring – or trying to. 

Anduin wasn’t sure what would happen when he brought the young man back to Stormwind, but if anyone could figure this out, it would be Medivh.  Khadgar could learn later that Medivh was part of the Kirin Tor – the very order of magi from which he was fleeing – because Anduin trusted that Medivh would do the right thing. 

First, however, he had to convince Ned and the others of his own innocence.


	5. You've Got One Now

Ned stared down into the hole.  “He’s changed.  Blimey, he’s changed!  Demon!” 

Khadgar was re-chained by the neck, curled up in his blanket in the straw.  For all that, even Ned could see that he was mostly human again. 

Anduin moved over to peer into the hole.  “As you can see, the curse is wearing off.”

“Curse?” Ned glared at Anduin suspiciously. 

“Yes,” Anduin replied evenly.  “I spoke to Khadgar last night.  He finally admitted the truth.”

“How’sat?” Ned wasn’t following well.

“He’s not a mage.  He’s just an ordinary serving lad, indentured to a great wizard in Dalaran.”

“Dalaran…?” Ned repeated stupidly.

“Great floating city?  Surely you’ve heard of it?”  Anduin went on blithely.  “Anyway, he mucked about in some spell he shouldn’t have, and his master cursed him with the ‘cat’s curiosity’ for nosing about where he shouldn’t have.  Khadgar panicked, and ran away, and he’s been wandering ever since, stuck in the cat form.”

“Why’s he changing now?” asked Ned, still suspicious.

Huh.  Why _was_ Khadgar changing now…?  Anduin cast about for a likely reason.  He was making most of this up as he went.  He glanced down into the hole, looking at Khadgar for inspiration.  The young man was rolling his eyes, but drew a circle in the air above his head, mouthing the word “moon.”

_Ah yes, a perfect explanation for a superstitious person like Ned._

“Oh, the cycle of the moon, most likely,” Anduin replied, waving his hand vaguely.  “That’s how these things work, usually.  Influence of the stars and all that.  Another few moon cycles and he’ll be changed back completely.”

Ned was nodding slowly, now.  “Well, cat or boy, he ain’t getting out of jail.  He’s killed our livestock, that’s what.”

“Only one sheep,” Khadgar spoke softly.  “I was hungry, but it was wrong.  I’m sorry.”

Ned spat on the floor.  “Plenny more than one sheep.  Gerald lost two hisself, and then there’s the missing goats, and sommat tore into old mother Winnow’s henhouse just yesterday and broke it to-”  Ned broke off, realizing what he had said.  The three exchanged looks for a long moment.

“There’s something else out there,” Khadgar said at last, “Because that couldn’t have been me.”

Ned’s jaw had dropped open, and he stared wildly at Anduin.  “You was here all night – did he creep out, maybe go all cat-like, through the winda?”

“No, no,” said Anduin thoughtfully, trying for the umpteenth time not to laugh at Ned’s almost childlike devotion to his own wild ideas.  “I’m afraid I might know what’s terrorizing your lands.”

Ned’s grunt encouraged Anduin to go on. 

“Remember I told you that I’m tracking one of his majesty’s gryphons?  A big female, just one generation removed from wild.  Her name’s Wormwing, and she disappeared from Stormwind Keep just about a fortnight ago.  I tracked her into this region.  We think she’s looking for somewhere to nest,” Anduin paused, wondering how much of this Ned was believing.  Unlike his cat-curse story, this was the complete truth.  “That’s what I was doing up in that eyrie – looking for traces of her.  I bet she’s been picking off your livestock.”

“Hmph,” Ned grunted again.  “Some story, boy.  Taint no gryphons around here, though.  Not for a long time.”

“Maybe so,” Anduin went on stubbornly, “But I bet you’ve got one now.”

Banging his cudgel on the ground, Ned suddenly swung the grating closed again.  “Enough talk.  C’mon.  You’ve got work to do.”

Anduin headed quickly for the door before Ned’s prodding cudgel could find a place in his backside.  “Alright, Ned, you don’t have to poke me.”  Shooting a sympathetic look at the grating, Anduin hoped that Khadgar would be alright for a little while longer.


	6. What's This?

Ned was surely making good use of his newfound source of labor.  Anduin hauled rocks for him all morning, carrying them from an old, dilapidated building in the nearby woods to Ned’s fence that had fallen through and needed mending.  Anduin didn’t have the skills to actually repair the fence, but he was very capable of hauling rocks.  Then he found himself inside Ned’s hut, scrubbing out the floors like a washwoman. 

“You know,” he ventured at one point, “Khadgar could probably help with some of this, too.  Once his foot is healed.”

“Naw,” said Ned, predictably.  “Can’t invite a demon into the house.  Once ya ask them in, they ken come in any time and drink yer blood.”

Anduin groaned in frustration.  “He’s not a demon. He’s just a boy.  And his leg is infected.  It needs looking at.  You got a healing kit?”

Ned stared blankly. 

“Salve, catgut, needles?  Stuff like that?” Anduin prodded. “Bandages?”

“In the cupboard.  Top shelf.” Ned pointed to his somewhat grimy sitting room. 

Climbing to his feet, grateful to have a chance to stop scrubbing on his knees, Anduin poked through the cupboard.  Dust, a handful of dried parsnip chips long gone bad, metal bits and bobs…ah, there!  A small tin.  Whatever medicines were inside had most likely long lost their potency, but if the needle and thread were there, Anduin would be grateful.  Boiled water and silverleaf would do the rest.  Peacebloom would be good, too, if he could get any.  Anduin stared suddenly at the long, wooden tube in the back of the cupboard.  Still attached to an old, leather thong, the tube was about the length of his forearm and ornately carved with small holes throughout.  He let out a low, appreciative whistle.

“Ned,” he called, holding out the tube.  “Do you know what this is?”

Ned peered at him disinterestedly.  “Hrm?  It’s me granda’s old airwhistle.  Broke, now.  Don’t make no tune.”

“No,” said Lothar decisively.  “It’s a gryphon call.  Too high for human ears.”

“Well la-di-da,” snorted Ned.  “Ain’t you fancy?  Finished with that floor, yet?”

“I’m taking a break,” said Anduin.  “I’m going to treat Khadgar’s leg while the light’s still good.” He paused.  “Won’t you let him in the house?  I’ll need boiled water, and-”

“I won’t,” Ned insisted.  “Bad idea.  You can lead him into the yard though, but keep a good hold on that chain.”

“Alright,” Anduin promised, taking the proffered key and heading for the jail.  Ned really wasn’t a bad sort.  He was just crotchety, and old, and a little bit mean.  Most mountain people had hearts of gold, Anduin had found, if you just scratched through the dust and grit to find it.  Ned had lots of grit.

Khadgar followed Anduin willingly out of the jail, being led tamely by the collar on his throat.  Anduin shrugged helplessly in the front yard, finding nowhere to fasten the chain to.  Finally, he picked the pitchfork up threateningly and waved it at Khadgar for Ned’s benefit.

“You sit there,” he said sternly, poking the fork at a stump.  “If you move so much as a whisker, I’ll trap your tail to the ground.”

“Yessir,” Khadgar said meekly, settling down on the stump and ignoring the fact that he no longer had whiskers to move.  Well, cat whiskers, anyway.  He did sport a scraggly human beard.  Khadgar watched closely as Anduin built up a fire, dragging over a pot and hooking it to the crossbar above the fire.  Anduin was amused to note that more than once, Khagar’s hand moved towards his mouth as if he would clean a paw that no longer existed.  His long, fluffy tail, he curled neatly around his bare feet.

Ned watched through narrow eyes as Anduin boiled up a tea of dried silverleaf and ancient salve that he hoped was peacebloom.  When the mixture was ready, he unbound the bandages wrapped on Khadgar’s wounded foot and went to work with a wet rag.  Khadgar did remarkably well under his ministrations, mewling quietly when the hot mixture touched his leg, and again when Anduin inserted the needle for the first time stitching closed the worse of the gashes.  Other than that, he held perfectly still, his hands clenched against his knees and his face gone white.

Anduin was by no means satisfied by the patchy job he’d done, and mentally cursed for a healer.  He hoped the infection wouldn’t spread, but feared it would.  Leaving Khadgar to drink a mug of the foul tea that he’d brewed, he went faithfully back inside and finished scrubbing the floor.  Ned was puttering nearby, tending to his chickens and keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings.

When they broke for lunch, things were almost peaceful.  Khadgar stayed on his stump, but was falling asleep from the tea.  Rather than being ineffective, whatever was in the salve seemed to have increased in potency and he his eyes were half-lidded with sleep.  Lothar and Ned were enjoying chunks of roasted squirrel and chunks of hard cheese when Gerald and two others rode up – two on mountain ponies, and one on Anduin’s horse.

“What’s this, old Ned?” called Gerald angrily.  “Getting’ cozy with the prisoners?”

Ned scrambled up guiltily, snatching for his cudgel.  Khadgar tensed warily, looking like he was ready to run.  Anduin grabbed the length of his chain, and shot him a warning look.  _Trust me,_ his eyes willed.   _Stay.  I’ll work it out._

“Naw,” denied Ned.  “Puttin’ ‘em to work.  Waste of good labor, that.  Fence needs mending.”

Gerald jumped from his mount and strode angrily towards the fire, shattering whatever tenuous warmth that had started to build among the three.  “Git back in there,” he snarled to Anduin as he nodded towards the jail.  “You may be able to fox an old man, but you won’t fox me.  None of your tricks.”  He seemed to notice Khadgar for the first time.  “What is _that_ doing out of the hole?”

“That,” said Anduin dangerously, pointing at his horse, “Is _my_ mount.” 

“Git inside,” Ned said hastily, prodding at Anduin with the cudgel.  “We need to talk first.”  Anduin allowed himself to be herded back into the jail, keeping one arm around Khadgar just in case the kid tried to bolt.  

“It’s alright,” he soothed, letting the chain drop once they were secured inside the building.  He noticed distantly that Khadgar was shaking slightly, and was embarrassed that he hadn’t thought to ask for some clothing for the boy.  Anduin turned his attention to pressing his ear against the doors, trying to hear what Ned, Gerald, and the others were arguing about so heatedly.  Ned was a little hard of hearing, which helped Anduin’s eavesdropping considerably.

Gerald was berating Ned for letting the prisoners loose, and Ned was arguing that there was a rampaging gryphon in the neighborhood.  Anduin groaned – Ned’s version of the story sounded crazy, even to his own ears that knew the truth.  Seemed that Gerald’s friends had found Anduin’s mount wandering in the woods nearby, but there was no mention of his pack and belongings.  That irked Anduin immensely.  Somebody had stolen his gear, his sword, everything that would have corroborated his story.

Eventually, the four men moved inside the hovel and Anduin huffed in frustration.  He flung himself onto the bed of straw next to Khadgar, resigning himself to another long wait, and found that Khadgar was still trembling.  _Oh._ He’d only thought that Khadgar might be cold, not being clothed and all, but the wideness of his eyes seemed to indicate that he was shaking from something more. 

Anduin held an arm out, and pressed the young man against his side.  “Here,” he said, “wrap up in this blanket.  You know those men?”

Khadgar nodded.  “They trapped me.”

“Thought so,” said Anduin.  “Merril brothers, Ned said.  Probably not very nice fellows, eh?”

“No.” Khadgar’s voice was small and tired.  “They beat me.  They hurt my tail.”  The tail in question was tucked tightly against his body again.

“I’ll bet they did.  You didn’t go quietly, did you?” Anduin teased Khadgar gently, poking his side. 

“No,” Khadgar agreed, with a very catlike grin that showed all his teeth.  “I didn’t.”

Anduin kept him pulled close, absent-mindedly running his fingers through the dark hair again.  “We’ll get out of this.  They found my mount, so that must mean they found my gear.  Maybe they aren’t admitting it, but they must know who I am.”

Khadgar looked at him strangely, and Anduin realized once again that he was far from home.  The name Anduin Lothar hadn’t meant anything to the mountain people, and it didn’t mean anything to young Khadgar, either.  No matter.  Things would be sorted out soon enough, Anduin was sure.

“C’mon, Khadgar,” he said at last.  “Let’s rest.  I have a good feeling about this.  We need to be ready to ride when the bailiff comes.  Alright?”


	7. Set The Trap

Lothar faced the group of men, his hands on his hips.  Of the four, Ned was unable to make eye contact and was staring at the ground.  Gerald and the Merril brothers stood aggressively close, keeping their hands on their weapons.  They’d chained Khadgar back in the hole, and dragged Lothar out for a little “discussion.”

“Where’s your proof, poacher?” Gerald snarled.  “You spin a good story, but mighty little to back it up.  Why shouldn’t we leave you to rot in your cell with that demon spawn?”

Anduin bit back his temper.  “My proof was on the back of that horse,” he said, nodding towards his mount.  “Where’s my pack? My sword, my gear?”

“Don’t know,” said the shorter of the brothers.  He was small and dark, but carried a serviceable looking bow and a collection of throwing axes in his bandolier.  “Ain’t that right, brother?”

“Aye,” agreed the taller, younger brother.  He wielded a short sword and a long hunting dagger.  “Jest found it wandering.  No pack.”

Anduin didn’t believe them for a second, and from the look on Ned’s face, he didn’t either.  “Convenient,” he said softly, bristling.

“Enough,” interrupted Gerald.  “You stay in jail until the bailiff gets here.  The discussion is over.”

Anduin took a big step forward, chest nearly bumping Gerald’s.  “No, the discussion is not over.  How many sheep have you lost?  And you?  And widow Winnow’s chickens?  There’s something out there hunting your livelihood and I think I know what it is.”

“Gryphon makes sense,” broke in Ned, looking at Gerald.  “Might be.  Still plenny of nests around here.  Coulda come back to lay her eggs.”

“Gryphons,” snorted tall brother.  “Ain’t been no gryphons around here in an age, what ‘cause of poachers.”

“Exactly,” snapped Anduin, completely losing his patience at last.  “How in the hell am I poaching gryphons that don’t even exist?”

The other men shifted uncomfortably. 

“ _Tryin’_ ta poach is still illegal,” claimed short brother stoutly.  He didn’t seem completely sure of this, but the others nodded in agreement.  “You musta thought there was eggs up in that nest for stealin’.”

“I am here on the King’s business,” Anduin argued, sensing the futility of repeating his admonitions.  “The gryphon that I am tracking is here, somewhere in these mountains, preying on easy pickings.  I can help you find her and stop her.”

“How?” said Gerald. “How, exactly, are you gonna do that?”

“Ned has a gryphon whistle,” Anduin said quickly.  “And I know how to use it.”

The three men stared at Ned incredulously.  “Ned?” asked Gerald.

“I don’t know!” Ned protested. “It’s me granda’s airwhistle.  Ain’t play no tunes anymore but he thinks he can work it.”

“That’s how gryphon calls work,” Anduin explained.  “They’re at a higher pitch than we can hear, but the gryphons hear them just fine.  Trained gryphons hear the call and know its feeding time. “I think if we set a trap, with some bait, old Wormwing will fly right in to feed.”  Anduin swallowed uncomfortably.  “When she does, we’ll kill her.”

What he had just suggested – killing one of the King’s gryphons – was a criminal offense, but none of these simple mountain folk knew that.  He thought that, given the circumstances, Llane would understand.

“I’d prefer to catch her, of course, and return her to Stormwind,” he went on, “but without my gear that will be nearly impossible.  If she’s feeding on livestock, we’ve got a real problem.”  Anduin suddenly had a cunning thought.  “Besides which, if it turns out Wormwing was doing the killing, you can of course apply to the king for compensation. I believe the restitution amount is the livestock value four-fold.”

The two brothers exchanged a quick glance at this information, and the shorter nudged the taller. 

“What, exactly, would we need for this trap?” Gerald asked slowly.  He was still thinking, and Anduin could tell that he was the one that needed to be convinced.  The others would follow his lead.

“We need an open area.  A meadow would be best, something with brush or trees on the edge.  I’ll call her down with the whistle.  We’ll need bait – a stuck goat or sheep tied to a stick would work fine. Something she can see and smell.  When she comes in for the kill, shoot her down.”  Anduin paused, feeling sick. Wormwing wasn’t a bad gryphon.  She was just a little wild.  He hated the thought of her being put down.  “It’ll take more than you think.  Best if one or two shoots while the others charge with swords.  If you arm me, I’ll do my best.”

Gerald looked at Anduin thoughtfully, his mouth pursed as he considered the possibility.  “Four-fold, eh?” he asked.  “How’s the king verify what’s actually been killed for restitution?”

Anduin did not like the turn this was taking.  “He relies on the honesty of his good subjects,” he replied softly, “and he sends a good man that he can trust to validate the claims.  Someone like me,” he emphasized.   “If you give me a full and true list of the lost livestock, you have my word that you will be made whole accordingly.”

“We lost three goats,” broke in the short brother quickly.  “An’ Gerald two sheep, and the widow-”

“Why don’t we catch the beast first?” Anduin said easily.  “We can cover the particulars later.”  He was aware that Gerald most likely wanted to pad the numbers – a certain amount of that was acceptable, expected, really.  He didn’t want the other men to lock Gerald into any specific number too soon.

“Kill it, you mean,” corrected Gerald.

“As you say.” Anduin inclined his head.

“Alright.  Are we agreed?” Gerald looked at the brothers, who nodded.  Ned shrugged helplessly. 

“Who’s gonna give the bait?” objected short brother.  “We done lost three sheep already.  Ned, you’ve a cow, doncha?”

“Ain’t nobody touching my Bess,” Ned objected.  “I need that critter for mah cheese-making.”

“Shut up,” snapped Gerald.  “We don’t need Bess.  We’ve got bait right here.”  He nodded towards the jail.  “That demon-creature will do just fine.”

Anduin felt the blood drain from his face.  “You can’t do that.”

“Yes, we can,” said Gerald, his voice gone hard and cold.  “Or’d you druther volunteer?”

“Use a sheep or cow,” Anduin argued hotly, “not a human, damn it.”

“It’s not a human.  It already attacked my flock.  Lucky I didn’t send it back to the underworld right then and there.” Gerald smiled meanly.  “Ned, take the prisoner back inside.  Chain him up proper this time.  Neck chain.  No more soft stuff.”

“If you touch one hair of that boy’s head, I’ll rend you in two,” Anduin threatened angrily, despite knowing this wasn’t the smartest thing to be doing.

“Why are you so hot for that blasted demon spawn?” Gerald asked, frowning.  “Awfully suspicious, don’t you think?  First, he shows up, then you.  There some relation there?  Maybe _you_ summoned him to plague us all.”

“Now you’re speaking like an ignorant fool,” Anduin snapped.  “I’m no more a spell-chucker than you’re a sheriff.”

“Shut your face, poacher, before I shut it for you.” Gerald turned away and headed for his mount.  “We’ll be back tomorrow mornin’, Ned, so’s you’d better keep good watch on them tonight.  If that cat demon gets away, it’s your Bess for sure.”

Ned stood helplessly in the yard, his fists clenched impotently into fists as the three rode away.  “Trash,” he said at last, spitting on the ground.  “Never was no good, even when they was young pups. C’mon,” he sighed, “Gotta get you safely inside I reckon.”

Anduin shook his head.  “I’m not done with the kindling yet.”

Ned did not argue as he headed for the woodpile and took his simmering rage out on the poor logs of wood.  When Anduin finally threw himself on the ground, the stack of firewood had nearly doubled.  Ned had wisely stayed out of his way, but approached at last.  “It’s time, boy,” he said a bit sadly.

Anduin nodded this time, some of his warrior’s rage spent from his veins.  He’d rather have used the hatchet against those ignorant, backwater, superstitious….no.  He didn’t mean that.  He was just very, very frustrated.  Ned led him back into the jail, replacing the manacles at his feet and adding a chained collar at his neck. Anduin made no comment, but slumped down angrily to the ground once the old man had left.

“Anduin?” came Khadgar’s call from below the grate.  “What’s happening?”  He’d used the bent, rusty nail to release his chain once again, but couldn’t lift the grate on his own, so hovered by the edge waiting for Anduin to help.

“Khadgar,” Anduin asked suddenly.  “If you’re a mage, why are you still here?”

“What do you mean?” Khadgar asked, sounding confused.  “I’m wearing a chain, in case you forgot.”

“No, I mean, when I unchained you before.  Why didn’t you portal away, or blast old Ned this morning, or disappear into the woods?”  Anduin had a sick feeling, and he was beginning to wonder if Khadgar was everything he said he was.  Or if he was something more…demonic, perhaps?

“My foot’s broken,” Khadgar said simply.  “I couldn’t get very far.  And I don’t have anywhere to go.  You said you’d take me with you.” He stopped, shyly, and Lothar could almost imagine how his tail was flickering expressively below in the dark.  “Besides, you could leave.  But you don’t.  Why not?”

“Because I’m a fool,” Anduin growled, pacing away from the grate.  He was definitely feeling foolish for thinking, even for a brief moment, that Khadgar truly might be demon-spawn.  The mountains were getting to him, he decided. 

“Can I come out now?” Khadgar asked quietly. 

Anduin pulled up the grate and helped the cat-creature out.  The effects of the tea had worn off by now, and Khadgar’s pronounced limp was evident once again.  “I should have gotten you some clothing,” Anduin said at last, shaking his head.  “Wasn’t thinking.”

“Oh,” said Khadgar, looking down at his nude body without expression.  “I haven’t worn clothes in so long, I don’t mind.  It is cold, though, without my fur. What’s happening now?” he asked again. “What did those men want?”

“We’re going to bait the gryphon,” Anduin replied.  “I’ll call it down with the whistle, and they’ll kill her when she lands to feed.”

“Hm,” said Khadgar neutrally.  “You’d kill the king’s gryphon?  That’s a serious offense.”

Anduin was surprised that the boy knew that.  Then again, mages knew lots of things.  He shrugged.  “Gryphons are trained from birth to leave domestic creatures alone; battle-trained gryphons learn to hunt wild game.  She’s killing livestock.  Once a gryphon starts doing that, they aren’t much use to the king any more.  She’s a liability.  Llane will understand.”

“Why do you have to kill her at all?  Why not wait until the bailiff comes?” Khadgar pushed on.  Anduin had forgotten how inquisitive and nosy these mage types could be, and he stifled a sigh of frustration.  The kid wasn’t questioning him, he reminded himself.  He just wanted information.

“I could wait for the bailiff, yes, but how many more would she kill before then?” Anduin responded.  “What if she snatches up a small child, or a grandmother?  Wormwing’s gone rogue.  That, or worse.  We’ve all been assuming that she’s looking for somewhere to nest.  What if she’s rabid?”  He smoothed Khadgar’s dark hair subconsciously, the repetitive gestures soothing both of them.  “And,” he went on, “I hate to say it, but there’s a good chance the bailiff is going to clap me in irons and drag me back to Stormwind.  Everything will be fine once we get there, but in the meantime, what about these poor people?”

“They are difficult, but they need your help,” Khadgar said solemnly.  “I’m glad you’re helping them.  You’re a good man.”

The sudden assessment of his character caught Anduin off guard, and he chuckled uncomfortably.  “Thanks, kid.”  He decided not to mention Khadgar’s theoretical role in the proceedings tomorrow.  With any luck, he’d be able to persuade Ned to sacrifice his cow for the greater good – he’d get the equivalent of four cows in return, anyway. 

Troubled by these dark thoughts, Anduin found it difficult to sleep that night.  Khadgar drowsed peacefully, trustingly snuggled against his side with his tail curled around both of them.  At the moment, Anduin was feeling as though his trust was grossly misplaced.


	8. Lay The Bait

Alas, reason was not to prevail in the morning.  Ned absolutely refused to budge on the issue of Bess. 

“T’won’t be my cow we’s baiting,” he insisted.  “Can’t risk her.  She’s all I have.”

Anduin found his protests weak and pathetic.  How could anyone rank the life of an innocent person under that of a cow?  “Besides,” he argued, “Bess doesn’t have to die.  Just seeing her tied up may be enough to lure in Wormwing.  If Gerard and his men can cut her down quick enough, there won’t be any bloodshed.”  Other than Wormwing’s, of course, which still tugged uncomfortably at Anduin’s heart.

“Too risky,” said Ned with a sniff.  “Won’t do it.”

“The chickens?” Anduin asked.  “You’ve got plenty of chickens.”

“Oh, to hell with ya,” Ned groaned, exasperated.  “You city folk amble in here and think this just be an animal here, animal there, no big deal?  Well, this is my livelihood.  I need these here critters, ain’t no reason I gots to give them up for that spawn.”

“What about a deer, or boar, or something like that?” Anduin persisted, arguing quietly so that Khadgar’s sharp hearing wouldn’t overhear.  “You can’t put that boy in danger.  He hasn’t done anything wrong.”

“Demon spawn killed our stock,” Ned repeated.  “Deserves to be baiting.  Unnatural cat tail.  ‘Sides, we ain’t got time for hunting.  They’re here.”

Anduin looked across the way and saw that Ned was right.  Gerald and the two brothers were returning, clad in hunting gear that Anduin supposed would work as armor, should push come to shove, and bearing all manner of weapons.  He sighed, deeply frustrated. “Ned,” he tried again, “I’m begging you.  Don’t do this thing.  It isn’t right.”

Ned’s sharp, round eyes met his own for a moment, and then looked away.  Ned spat on the ground, predictably, and walked away stiffly.  Anduin knew that that was all he’d say on the matter, and balled his hand into a fist from frustration. This stupid trap had been his idea, and now Khadgar was going to be thrust into the middle of it unfairly. 

“Ready to ride?” Gerald called. 

Ned muttered something unintelligible and waved his hand. Accurately interpreting that vague response as ‘yes’, Gerald gave directions to the rest of the party.  Anduin would ride with the tall brother (Liam) on the horse, and Khadgar would ride with the short brother (Ford) on the pony.  Ned would ride double with Gerald. 

At Gerald’s direction, the Merril brothers went into the jail and brought out a very distressed Khadgar.  The hissing and growls that emanated from his throat didn’t sound human, and it sent a shiver down Anduin’s spine.  The vocal threats weren’t nearly as effective when they were no longer backed by claws and fangs.  Still, he fought like a wildcat and the brothers ended up trussing him hand and foot, wrapping him in a blanket and draping him over Ford’s horse like a sack of meal.  Khadgar’s brown eyes were huge and upset, and Anduin tried not to look at him.  The guilt was weighing heavily on him.

The party rode at a brisk walk along the trail to a place that Gerald thought would make a good bait spot.  The meadow was remote, even for this area of the mountains.  The area was spacious, and bordered on three sides by woods.  The fourth side bordered a small watering hole, and Anduin was forced to admit that the place was as good as any.  All too soon, they were slipping from their horses and taking position in the edge of the field.

Liam drove a metal stake deep into the ground in the center of the meadow, and Ford carried Khadgar’s now unresisting form and secured him tightly to the stake with the chain around his neck. 

“Unbind it,” Gerald called.  “Better if it thrashes around a little, huh?”  He looked to Anduin for confirmation, but Anduin refused to look back.  It would be more attractive to the gryphon if the captive cried out, distressed, signaling to the world that he was trapped and helpless.  Even better if he were bleeding, to fill the air with the scent, but Anduin wasn’t about to say anything to add to Khadgar’s misery.  All that Anduin could hope for now was a quick end for the poor kid. 

“Everyone in position?  Awright.  Do the whistle, poacher.”  Gerald tugged on Anduin’s neck chain. 

Anduin gave him a dark look, then accepted the gryphon call that Ned handed him.  He strode a few paces into the field and took a deep breath.  Then, raising his arm high into the air, he began swirling the tube above his head in a complicated, weaving pattern.  He’d learned to use this type of old-fashioned whistle what seemed like an age ago, and much preferred his own brass pipe whistle instead.  He hoped the pattern was correct.  Still, any gryphon call out in this wilderness would let every beast in a thousand yards know he was here. 

After several minutes, Anduin let his burning arm drop. 

“What now?” called Ford in a stealthy whisper.

“We wait,” Anduin replied, shrugging.  “Could be awhile.  We’ll try again in a while.” 

The men settled into the tall grass with the patient grace that only hunters seemed to possess in great measure.  Anduin didn’t have much patience for the wait, but forced himself to lie still.  Likewise, Ned seemed a little twitchy, fidgeting incessantly in the grass across the way.  Sometime later, Khadgar climbed to his feet and began tugging at his chain in the ground.  His blanket lay forgotten, and he made a great clatter twisting and pulling against the bounds.  Liam stirred, as if he would put a stop to the tugging, but Gerald stayed him with a sharp look.  “Let him fight,” he whispered hoarsely.  “It’ll bring her in.”

Hours passed.  The morning sun climbed high and turned hot, and yet the men lay quietly.  Twice an hour, Anduin rose, swinging the gryphon call in every pattern he remembered and making up a few of his own.  Fully exposed in the sun, Khadgar must have been suffering from the heat, and yet he’d curled under the blanket – probably protecting his milky white skin from exposure.

“He needs water,” Anduin said at last to Gerald.  “He’s been out there for hours.”

Gerald regarded him evenly, then nodded.  Passing Lothar’s chain to Liam, he rose to his feet with a canteen and headed slowly into the field.  He kicked the blanket off of Khadgar, and surveyed the boy for a moment before handing him the canteen.  Khadgar moved as far away from Gerald as the chain would let him, then drank greedily. 

Before Anduin knew what was happening, Gerald’s hunting knife was in his hand, and in one quick move he was straddling Khadgar’s form.  A loud wail told him the knife made contact, then another, and another.  Gerald rose, hands bloody, red dripping still from his knife.  Khadgar keened on the ground, writhing piteously from the pain in the wounds that had appeared on his belly and thighs.  “There,” Gerald called, “That’ll bring her in.  Fresh blood!”

Anduin surged to his feet, the red rage of bloodlust filling him immediately, casting off Liam’s grip as easily as brushing away a fly.  He hurtled toward Gerald, mindless of his lack of weapon, his bare feet, of the crossbow that was surely trained on him from across the field.  All he knew in that endless moment was that the worthless scum was about to die. 

Another shriek filled the sky – this one much louder than Khadgar’s wail had been.  Anduin froze, his murderous rampage halted by perhaps the only thing that would have stopped him in that moment – the call of a gryphon. 


	9. It Happens So Fast

Everything happened so fast after Wormwing’s piercing cry filled the air.  She descended gloriously, her massive, tawny wings seeming to fill the sky.  Her feet came down first, outstretched, as if she’d go for the bait – Khadgar.

Anduin screamed louder than his throat knew how.  _“Wormwing, NO!  AWAY!  AWAY!”_

While Wormwing did not wheel away as Anduin had instructed, she hesitated, and that moment was enough.  The snap of the crossbow sounded, followed by the whir and think of a hunting bow.  Each arrow found a target – one in Wormwing’s flank and the other in her neck.  The great bird screamed her pain to the sky, shaking her birdlike head and flexing her great lion’s claws.  She landed heavily, circling now, looking for something to wreak vengeance once.

Gerald, was, fortunately, the closest victim, and took the full brunt of her strike.  Grunting, he stumbled and rolled away in the grass, leaving the enraged gryphon with her victim.  Anduin snatched up Gerald’s hunting dagger, forgotten in the grass, feeling as though he had nothing but a splinter to defend himself.  He’d slipped into the warrior’s calm, a place where his body moved fluidly and time seemed to drift by slowly.  Part of him could not believe that Wormwing had attacked a human uninstructed – it went against everything in her training.  Anduin realized that she was mad, after all, and knowing this made it a little easier to do what he knew he had to do. 

Man and beast circled each other warily.  Another arrow appeared in her neck, and then another – the Merril brothers were reloading.  Gerald rolled uselessly in the grass, his face and neck bleeding hideously.  Khadgar tugged on the end of his chain, straining until he might asphyxiate, but was unable to free himself. 

“Don’t make me do this,” Anduin whispered, staring into Wormwing’s gleaming, yellow eyes.  “Don’t do this, girl.  Fly away, pretty one.”  He was speaking mostly to calm her – an exercise in futility, as the arrows were driving her into a rage.  Her beak snapped and struck, Anduin dodging the blow by inches.  Gryphons were freakishly fast for their size.  He’d never thought to be on this side of battling one.  Another strike, another roll away.  Something made Anduin feel as though Wormwing didn’t really want to hurt him, but even so, as he rolled away a third time, he plunged his dagger into her chest.

Panting, he lay in the grass, and watched hopefully for some sign that he’d struck her heart.  No such luck, as she clawed at the offending dagger he realized he’d missed by several inches.  And, he no longer had a weapon.  Ned stood at the edge of the clearing, bravely grasping a wobbly sword with two hands.   “Give me that sword!” Anduin roared in his direction, never taking his eyes from the wounded beast as she shrieked again.

Khadgar stood slowly, positioned behind Wormwing. Blood streamed from his cuts, but they did not appear bad enough that he couldn’t walk.  Anduin had been worried that Gerald would hamstring him, or worse, out of spite.  “Get down,” Anduin called urgently.  “Stay low, so she focuses on me.”

“You don’t have a weapon,” Khadgar hissed.  “I do.”

Blinking away from the bird for a moment, Anduin struggled to understand.  Moments later, blue light of arcane shot from Khadgar’s palms and eyes, glyphs circling dangerously as he gathered his power. 

_Oh.  Mage.  Right._

The words he chanted were harsh and strange to Anduin’s untrained ears – but they were effective.  An arc of purple and blue bolts blasted from his hands, catching the gryphon unawares and knocking her off her feet.  Wormwing tumbled to the ground, staggering, perhaps too stunned even to shriek. 

Ned took this opportunity to shakily toss his sword to Anduin, fleeing back to the relative safety of the tree line.  Anduin snatched the sword immediately, and turned to face the gryphon.

Khadgar now held her complete attention, and she circled him like a cat circles prey.  He circled with her, bound by his chains but keeping her to his face as he chanted again, building his next spell even as he waiting for his mana to resurge.  She leaped forward, wings flaring, and his fireball caught her directly in the face.  A horrid scent of burning feathers filled the air, and she struck wildly, missing her target entirely.

Anduin leaped forward, striking true and hard into her chest while she was momentarily blinded.  Her choked gurgle told him that he’d connected well this time, and he pulled his sword free, stabbing her again, this time in the neck. 

The great gryphon staggered, then fell heavily to her side, nearly crushing Khadgar, who jerked at his chain in frustration.  One of her flailing talons caught him on the arm, and he cried out and fell to his knees, interrupting whatever spell he’d been working on next.  More arrows had continued to appear on Wormwing’s body – her neck, her flank, even her wings were pierced. 

Anduin hated this moment most of all, but knew what he had to do.  Using Ned’s terrible, dull sword, he chopped at her neck.  And again.  And again.  At last her great head was severed and fell heavily to the ground, blood spilling out and her body continuing to twitch helplessly. 

Turning away, Anduin reached for Khadgar’s shoulder.  “Are you alright?” he asked, suddenly aware that he was panting heavily.

Khadgar nodded, wincing at the new pain in his arm from the talon.  “Do you have the nail?” he gasped, and Anduin reached frantically through his pockets until he procured the rusty nail.  Leaving Khadgar to unlock himself, he searched for Gerald.

Gerald lay, sprawling on the edge of the battle, soaked in his own blood.  He was still alive, but in a lot of pain.  The gryphon’s strike had caught him directly across the face.  Even battle-hardened Anduin suppressed a shudder at his lacerations. 

“C’mon,” he called to Ned.  “Bring the horse.  We’ve got to get him to a healer.”

Ned nodded, breaking his great freeze, and moved to lead the horse. 

Lothar surveyed the scene, thinking that it had gone perhaps as well as expected.  How in the world had he forgotten that as a mage, Khadgar was more than capable of taking care of himself?  A great deal of worry could have been saved this morning, if only he’d discussed this.  Khadgar was now free of his neck chain, standing in the field as naked as a bluejay, laughing, of all things. 

“We did it!” he cried, brown eyes crinkling with laughter.  “I can’t believe it.  I thought we were toast…”  His voice trailed away as he looked down at the arrow shaft that had appeared in his chest.  Red blood was blossoming down, spreading across his belly in red streaks.  Weakly, Khadgar dropped to his knees, and then fell forward onto his face.  Apparently, there was only so much abuse that one mage could take.


	10. A Little Gold After All

Ford trembled before Anduin’s rage.  He’d pointed his bow at the advancing warrior, but Anduin had paid it no mind.  Petty things like arrows and bows couldn’t stop him now.  Anduin had jerked the bow from his hands, and smashed it against the nearest tree.  They now stood, face-to-face on the edge of the forest. 

“What have you done,” Anduin said softly.  “What have you DONE?”

Ford jumped at the shout.  “He’s calling down dark magics, demons, can’t trust ‘em…” his voice trailed away. 

Anduin’s fist crashed into his face in the most satisfying way, but he refrained from following blows.  One was enough.  Liam stared, shocked at how things were going, his crossbow forgotten in his hands. 

“That mage was worth ten of your ilk!” Anduin raged helplessly.  “Of all the selfish, craven things to do.  You people kill anything you don’t understand, don’t you?”

Gerald was suddenly at Anduin’s side, tugging on his elbow.  He looked horribly pale and weak, leaning heavily on the horse.  Khadgar was draped across the horse’s back, chest up, arrow pointing to the sky like an accusing finger. 

“Come, warrior,” he said, breathing heavily.  “If we’re to save your mage, we’ve got to get to a healer.  Now.”

“Take the pony,” Anduin snapped. He leaped onto his mount’s back, carefully cradling Khadgar’s limp form in his arms.  “Ned.  Take the other pony and help Gerald ride.  We’ll come back for the Brothers Foolish later.”

Ned snapped into action, smartly obeying Anduin’s orders as quickly as his ancient limbs would permit.  Leading the way, they rode as quickly as they dared in the direction of the nearest village.  What a sorry, bedraggled spectacle they must have made, Anduin thought, with three of them now soaked in blood and himself still wearing a neck iron, but he didn’t care.  He only thought was of the body he was cradling, Khadgar’s semi-conscious whimpers spurring him ever-faster along the trail. 

The nearest healer was a midwife, which was damn good enough considering the circumstances.  She brought the two wounded men into her home, not even batting an eyelash at Khadgar’s fluffy black tail.  She and her assistant shoed the other two men from the place, telling them to get cleaned up and to wait.

Some time later, Anduin’s nervous pacing was interrupted by the clearing of a feminine throat.  He looked up, meeting the cool grey eyes of the old midwife, and braced himself for the worst.

“Well,” she said smartly, “I’ve done everything I can do.  The rest is up to them.”

“And…?” Anduin asked, barely daring to hope. 

“They’ll live.  The one won’t be so pretty anymore, but he’s lucky to have a face at all.  The other…well, if that arrow had been another inch to the right, he wouldn’ta made it.”

Anduin sagged weakly in relief, and the midwife gently touched his shoulder.  “What about you?  Any wounds I should know about?”

“None, madam,” he said graciously. “Not a scratch.”  It was true.  He’d escape from the fight entirely unscathed, which didn’t seem fair, considering the condition the other two were in. 

“Lucky day, then, lucky day,” she replied.  “What kind of fight was that?”

“Gryphon,” he muttered.  “Gone mad.  We had to put her down.”

“My.  We haven’t seen a gryphon around here for forever and a day.  Wish’d I could’ve seen it,” the midwife said wistfully. 

“You ride thirty minutes in that direction, and you’ll see enough dead gryphon to last you a lifetime.” Anduin hadn’t meant to sound harsh, but the midwife frowned and turned away.  “Thank you, madam, for what you’ve done for my companions,” he added belatedly.  “We’re indebted.”

“Just my duty, sir.  That’s all.” She nodded at him again, and disappeared into her home. 

Ned approached on the periphery of Anduin’s vision, hovering as if he had something to say.

“Yes?” Anduin asked, without turning to look.

“So, er, you’ll be a’comin’ back ter the jail, right then?  For the bailiff?” Ned managed at last.

Anduin laughed out loud.  “Sure.  Why not go rot in jail again for a few days for a crime that nobody committed?  I’ll do that.”  Seeing Ned’s look of consternation, Anduin spoke more gently.  “Of course we’ll come back with you.  We need to clear this matter with the bailiff.  But maybe you’ll let us stay in the barn this time?  It’s a little nicer.”

Harrumphing loudly, Ned thought this over.  “Naw.  Kint stay in the barn.  I got room in the house for ya.”

“Both of us?”

Ned fidgeted uncomfortably.  “Aye.  Both of ya. He’s earned it, even if he is demon’s get.”

Anduin grinned and clapped Ned on the shoulder.  “Right.  We’re ready to go, as soon as madam midwife gives us the word.”  He’d known that Ned was alright.  Somewhere, underneath all that grit and dust, a little gold from his heart was gleaming through.


	11. Epilogue

Weeks later, Anduin was grateful to be back into his dull and boring routines as commander of the Stormwind army.  Grateful in the way that only near-death can make you.  Of course, not everything was the same. 

Young Khadgar was living in Stormwind now, taking up residence with the Guardian Medivh who quartered in the keep for a good portion of the year these days.  His cat-form was fully gone, leaving only a reserved young man that vacillated between clumsiness and confidence, between confidence and deference to his master.  Medivh was helping him work through his differences with the Kirin Tor.  Apparently the kid had been training to be the next Guardian, before he’d gotten into too much trouble and disappeared from the Order.  

Khadgar had lived on his own for nearly a year – nobody was certain exactly how much of that time had been spent as a cat, but it had left an impression on Anduin that was hard to forget.  Sometimes when he watched the young man walking alongside his master, he fathomed that he could almost see a tail swishing from under his cloak.  Anduin secretly missed the tail.

His propensity to snuggle up and ask for pets had faded as well, although Anduin knew that he still desperately enjoyed being touched.  In fact, Anduin had recently learned that he still possessed the ability to trigger Khadgar’s purring reflex, startling both of them.  Thinking back to that moment, when his hand had rested just so on Khadgar’s neck, the little feeling of electricity that had passed between them, left Anduin feeling a little silly now.   Medivh had given him a vicious look, the ‘ _stop petting my apprentice, you bastard’_ look, and he’d pulled away immediately. 

Anduin smiled to himself.  Maybe not, then.  But maybe so.  Still.  There was something about that boy. He had a good feeling about this.

 

_Finis._


End file.
